Hold
by RealmOfPossibility
Summary: Alternative goodbye scene between Robin and Regina (4x11). This time, she's not alone.


**A/N A little reworking of the goodbye scene between Robin and Regina in 4x11, just because I like the idea of Regina having more than a few Merry Men witness what happened. It's meant to be hopeful because I really don't like writing angst…**

His arm was around her, covering her shoulders. His other arm was full of his son, whose face was buried into his neck.

They looked like a family.

She knew they weren't. Not really. Not anymore. Not the way they had once been.

Two things.

One. The way his shoulders were hunched forward-and not from the weight of carrying Roland. That boy would never be a burden for him, not as long as he breathed. His shoulders had always been straight and strong until now.

Two. The moments before his hand had slipped from hers, before her face had been lost to his sight. The desperation of his lips on hers, his hands cradling her face, his own screwed up in anguish.

And now they walked. Away. Away. Marian, free of the last vestiges of the magic that would have killed her. Marian, whom she could not bring herself to hate. Funny, when anger and hate had once been the only things tethering her to the ground.

And Robin.

Whom she loved. Yes. Who now walked on with the same weight she carried. She, however, was familiar with the pressure inside. Perhaps she didn't know how to live without it.

_I choose you._

She had felt something _crack_ at those words, barely hours earlier. Her face had seemed to remember how to smile, even if the rest of her didn't know. It had felt like the first cooling breeze after the sweltering summer, something long-forgotten, almost unrecognisable.

It had been that moment she should have realised. Kept herself in check. Waited for the blindside.

She slowly slipped her hands into her pockets. Her eyes burned, but there would be no tears. Let the hard rock inside that she called a heart absorb them. Her fingers brushed against something and then tightened around it, withdrawing it.

Page 23.

The alternative.

The possibility.

She pulled at the edges, unfolding the crumpled paper inch by inch until she saw herself in print the way she had never been in real life. Taking hold of her happy…something. Happiness.

The page trembled and she gritted her teeth in displeasure, clutching the paper tighter.

That was it, then. The Author wins again. She nodded once in acknowledgement and reached up with her other hand, taking hold of the page and pulling down. Tear it to shreds, let it be the physical manifestation of what was taking place inside. Pull it apart and let the wind sprinkle the pieces to the four winds. Rip it down the middle and separate on the page what had just happened in real time.

She looked up to where they still trudged along the road, small figures now, barely distinguishable.

She glanced down again and blew out a breath, pulling harder. This paper, with all its mockery of her dreams, needed to go.

A hand reached out and covered hers, stopping her progress. As her own hand tightened, tried to force the paper into shreds, the other hand tightened.

"Don't…Mom."

Her hands loosened almost immediately. She could never deny him, even at the expense of herself. He knew that and believed in her all the more because of it. She felt him ease the page gently from her hands until they were empty, held out loosely in the air in front of her. She didn't know what to do with them.

"I'll keep it until you need it again."

She heard the crinkle as he folded it up, heard the rustle as it slipped into his pocket. She couldn't look at him. Couldn't let him see the dark window into her soul that would let him see and hear the collapsing, the harsh grinding of metal, the melting into molten liquid of the world she had tried to inhabit.

His hand brushed hers, then took hold, gripping, enclosing. She recalled those tiny fingers once able to grab onto only one of hers, clutch onto it so tight, a haven in the storm. Soon their hands would be of equal size and then his would take over. She tightened her hold on his hand, a mutual reassurance. Her other arm now hung empty and limp by her side and it was only now that she remembered to stand up straight, to lift her shoulders and her head. What she really wanted, of course, was to sink down into the dirt, let the cool, dark earth swallow her up in its embrace.

It was the other hand coming up to take her free one that made her turn her head. She hadn't even heard the car come up behind them, hadn't heard the panting of someone running, though she could hear it now. She let her eyes wander up until they met Snow's. There was no rush, not now. She felt the other woman's crushing grip on her hand, could almost imagine it was Snow's way of pulling her up and out of the figurative hole she'd been about to succumb to.

"I won't say it," Snow whispered, reaching down and into her pocket. She pulled something out and held it up, letting the dull sunlight catch it, make its metal glimmer. "But I'm keeping this for you."

She stared at the coin and swallowed hard. A thousand snide remarks filled her mind, but not a single one passed her lips. There was no reasoning with the strength of belief like that, even with the evidence which was now all but out of sight. She watched as the coin was returned to Snow's pocket.

Henry tugged gently at her arm.

"I know it's not much, but…you still have us, Mom."

It was meant to be a smile, but it came out as pain. She swallowed again, clutching their hands tighter, even as the cool, dark beckoned her further down.

Tighter still, holding her up.

Holding her.


End file.
